Category Archives: Anne Sexton

Poem – Housewife

Some women marry houses. It’s another kind of skin; it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements. The walls are permanent and pink. See how she sits on her knees all day, faithfully washing herself down. Men … Continue reading

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Poem – Menstruation At Forty

  I was thinking of a son. The womb is not a clock nor a bell tolling, but in the eleventh month of its life I feel the November of the body as well as of the calendar. In two … Continue reading

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Poem – Mother and Daughter

Linda, you are leaving your old body now, It lies flat, an old butterfly, all arm, all leg, all wing, loose as an old dress. I reach out toward it but my fingers turn to cankers and I am motherwarm … Continue reading

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Poem – The Frog Prince

Frau Doktor, Mama Brundig, take out your contacts, remove your wig. I write for you. I entertain. But frogs come out of the sky like rain. Frogs arrive With an ugly fury. You are my judge. You are my jury. … Continue reading

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Poem – The Gold Key

The speaker in this case is a middle-aged witch, me- tangled on my two great arms, my face in a book and my mouth wide, ready to tell you a story or two. I have come to remind you, all … Continue reading

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Poem – Ghosts

Some ghosts are women, neither abstract nor pale, their breasts as limp as killed fish. Not witches, but ghosts who come, moving their useless arms like forsaken servants. Not all ghosts are women, I have seen others; fat, white-bellied men, … Continue reading

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Poem – Earthworm

Slim inquirer, while the old fathers sleep you are reworking their soil, you have a grocery store there down under the earth and it is well stocked with broken wine bottles, old cigars, old door knobs and earth, that great … Continue reading

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